Team Caryl
by sleepersamizdat
Summary: A collection of Caryl drabbles and one-shots. I will update as the stories come to me.
1. Beauty Mark

_~Beauty Mark~_

They're in the kitchen one afternoon. Judith has been happily gurgling and bouncing on Daryl's knee. They've both been carrying on a "conversation" as Judith tries to mimic the cadence and timber of how the adults around her talk. Daryl responds with complete gibberish in kind and Carol doesn't think she can hold it together much longer, this exchange has been getting so oddball. It is endearing how he'll lift his voice octaves and drop the edge to smooth it out for Judith. He doesn't want to scare her. Judith's starting to develop words now and Carol had asked him not to call her ass-kicker because she was afraid Judith would pick it up. Doesn't mean he won't mouth it when Aunt Carol isn't looking. At some point, Judith's focus goes from Daryl's face to the mole on his cheek. She stops to put her chubby little finger on it, quietly speaking in her baby talk. Carol has been amusedly watching while she's piecing together a casserole. She speaks up, "You found Uncle Daryl's beauty mark."

Daryl snorted, "Ain't no beauty mark." he looked back at Judith who had been surprised at the deeper growl in his voice. He raised his pitch and his eyebrows as he bounced her on his knee. "Mens ain't got no beauty marks. Mens gots moles." She reached her little hand out again to try to grab his face.

"Judith, sweetie, men can be beautiful too."

Daryl got the impression the comment was not directed at Judith.

She finally reached his face but when she tried to grab his mole, the texture of his stubble surprised her. Daryl chuckled. He gently took her little wrist and carefully stretched out her fingers with one of his large ones. Leaning forward, he patted her palm with the grain of his grizzled jaw. Now getting the technique, she started to pat the sides of his face and hair in wonder. He grinned warmly. "See? Men ain't beautiful. They can be handsome. Yer Daddy is handsome. Ol' Uncle Daryl looks like a wet pole cat." He could hear Carol's frustrated sigh behind him. His grin spread wickedly as he stage-whispered, "But Aunt Carol smells like one." Soon after he felt a wet dish towel impact the back of his head.


	2. The Stone in My Bed

Daryl hears sniffling coming from Carol's cell in the middle of the night. He pads in his sock feet to her cell door and whispers her name. She doesn't answer him and he hears wet gasping from behind the curtain. Sliding around the sheet hung for privacy, he's only mildly surprised that there isn't any excess heat in here that the privacy screen is containing. He can still see the warmth of his breath cloud the air as it freezes.

Carol is on her side shivering terribly and she actually sounds like she's in pain. "Carol?" He approaches her bedside and she's curled into as tight a ball as she can under a paper thin sheet. He grasps one of her curled fists and it almost burns him it's so cold. "Carol, where is your blanket?" She's trembling so hard. "L-Lizzie." she whispers. Daryl sandwiched her hand between his and tried to siphon some of his warmth into her hands. "Carol, she sleeps with Mika. How you supposed to take care of Lizzie and Mika if you die of hypothermia?" She doesn't answer, too busy quaking in the cold. "Ain't you got a brick?" he asks. They had taken to putting bricks and stones in the fire all day and then pulling them and wrapping them in old rags when they cooled only just enough. The radiant heat eased the chill in bed at night. "B-Beth." she stutters through chattering teeth.

He goes back to his crows nest and gets his thick wool blanket to toss over her. It's heavy and smells like cigarettes, motor oil, and him. Then she feels the weight of him climbing over her and burrowing under the blanket behind her. He's tugging the bed clothes this way and that. But then, she becomes alarmed when she feels him pull her shirt up to expose her back. "'S'okay. Sssh. 'S'okay. Merle done this for me once when I was little. We ain't had no heat in the trailer." He wrapped his arms around her under the covers and pulled her back to rest her bare back on his exposed stomach. He was warm and she knew she must have felt like a block of ice. He pulled the heavy wool blanket over their heads. The chill air stung his cheeks and nasal cavity. He knew she must feel the same way. If the blanket could maintain some of the humidity it might also maintain some of the warmth in the air. He felt her skin begin to match his temperature but she was still trembling. Then he heard her sobbing.

Uh, oh. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe it was too much for her and she was too scare to tell him to stop or leave. "Carol?" he whispered. "Whuss wrong?" She shivered in the dark and sniffled, "I m-miss S-Sophia."

He squeezed her closer and sighed purposefully into the back of her hair to transfer warmth. "M'sorry." he whispered and then rested his face against her head. She nodded slightly, "I know. It's not your fault." and she squeezed his hand in return. She wiped the tears off her face and wormed her hands back under his. She doesn't know who fell asleep first but she does remember Daryl's warmth all around her settling like a stone and his even breathing lulling her to sleep. The last thing she remembers before drifting off is a quiet snore that started up just behind her head.


	3. On Golden Pond

Carol walks in on Daryl reading one evening. She had come out to the old church tower for a little solitude before starting dinner for the house. He initially startled when she found him wedged into the corner of a window sill. But recognizing it was her, he settled back. "Ain't you gonna crack no jokes about the dumb redneck reading?" She sighed and smiled at him in her tired way.

"What?"

"Too easy."

He snorted.

"Besides," she said. "I remember overhearing once you insulting Dale by calling him 'on-golden-pond'."

Daryl looked at her for a while.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" he said.

"Well, did you read it?"

He shifted his weight as his leg was falling asleep. "A long time ago." and then, "It was a school assignment." before roughly saying, "Yes, I went to school."

There was that long suffering stare again. He was being defensive with the one person that wasn't going to judge him. Out of guilt, he said quietly, "I got my diploma believe it or not."

Carol shrugged. "Looks like you came out on top to me."

He grunted, "Yeah, still somehow ended up in a prison."

"Stop . . . " she groaned.

He cracked a slight smile. "I'm just mess'n with ya."

Her eyes fell on the book in his lap. "So, whatcha read'n?" The cover was dirty and the pages looked like it might have gotten wet a time or two.

"Um," his knuckles turned in on the book as he unconsciously pulled it closer to his chest. "It's uh, that one we found in Atlanta." They had visited Atlanta a few times and scavenged lots of things in their various travels but she knew the one he was talking about.

"Find anything?" she asked timidly.

He chewed on the inside of his lip nervously. "Trying."

She reached out and pushed his bangs away from his eyes like she always did, folding them behind his ear. "Lemme know if I can help." and then, "I could use some too."

He let her withdraw her hand and held her gaze. Slowly closing the book, he said quietly, "Why you so nice to me?"

"Because I like you."

"Why?"

"Because I do. I know you, Daryl." he nodded, looking down. Now, it made his chest tight to look her in the eyes. "And you know me. You understand my perspective." When he didn't respond she continued, "You know what it's like to be underestimated. You did the best with what you had. You could have left us and fended for yourself but you didn't. You stayed with us. You have a big heart. You're my friend and I love you."

He hadn't noticed he was hugging the book to his chest. A little smile played at his lips and his face was beet red. He involuntarily started to snicker which made her giggle. When they quieted down again he murmured, "I love you too." She smiled and crawled over to pull him into a crushing hug. They buried their faces into each other's necks to share that moment and then she got up. She straightened her shirt and said, "Alright, I'm gonna go start dinner. You keep reading." He nodded and she patted him on the back as she turned to leave. Daryl settled back into his corner of window once again to try and find where he left off. The corners of his mouth didn't seem to want to go down nor the warm flicker in his heart.


	4. But, Daryl HATES Music

Ever since being held by the Saviors, Daryl HATES listening to music. Depending on the circumstance, he'll either get up quietly and leave or rip the cord violently out of the plug if he's got the opportunity. Rick has a distinct memory of Daryl once swatting his portable battery powered CD player into a rain barrel. Rick wasn't sure what was so offensive about the Beach Boys but Daryl was all bent out of shape about it so no more playing CD's on runs for sure. But Carol. Carol loves to cook and Daryl loves Carol. She's got this mix tape. When she's got the opportunity, she'll play it while she's in the kitchen. For a while, she's transported back to those days when she was a little girl and her mother put records on while they peeled apples, or potatoes. or whatever. The music and the breeze would drift by on thin shifting

curtains.

She scavenged the mix tape from one of the dead cars that littered the highways. It was funny, she thought, how people so readily discarded tapes for CDs back in the day. Tapes are smaller and easier to carry. They don't get damaged so easily and they are easier to record. She smiles remembering the ol' tape-on-the-tabs trick she and her girlfriends would use to dub over a tape. It was really sweet of the head provisioner to let her listen to her music while she prepared sweets for them. She had come to the Kingdom for a visit and convinced Ezekiel to let her prepare some treats for the Kingdomers as a thank you for the lovely (but unnecessary in her opinion) fresh fruits and vegetables. Daryl told her that Rick, Michonne and Maggie were going to arrive that night. Apparently, something big was brewing as they were going to ask Ezekiel to have the Kingdom join Alexandria and Hill Top in a strategy against the Saviors. Carol expressed how happy she was just to be able to see them again and sit down with her old family around a table and share a meal again.

Her eyes went wide when she saw the boombox sitting on the porch of the provisions kitchen that breezy afternoon. The old cook's eyes wrinkled with delight as she chuckled at Carol's reaction. "You wanna hear some music?" Carol gasped, "Oh, could I? I have this mix tape. It's been ages since I've heard it!" The old lady cackled, "Sure, honey! Help yer self! They prolly tired of hearing my music o'er and o'er again anyways." As the old char tottered away one of the other ladies whispered, "Bless her heart. I'm a little tired of Dolly Parton." Carol giggled despite herself and slipped the tape into the deck.

She starts gathering her ingredients about the kitchen in a big bowl. Everyone else was busying themselves with something else. Two women busied themselves on the porch peeling turnips but they had mostly left the prep kitchen to her. Carol smirked. Ezekiel must have tipped them off that she liked to work on her own without much disturbance. She was surprised that Jerry hadn't shown up insisting on helping sue chef.

Michonne and Maggie were in the garden rows across the street pull weeds from around the pumpkin vines. They stood and ducked under the branches of the apple tree when Rick brought them some water. The group had insisted on helping in some way with the chores of the Kingdom during their stay. Ezekiel had marveled at them and then made some sort of comment on the "industriousness of Georgians." The trio heard Ella Fitzgerald drift quietly over from the direction of the kitchen building. Michonne smiled, "Carol's in the kitchen." They looked past the gardens and saw her standing at the table smiling to herself as she kneaded dough. Maggie sighed wistfully, "She looks so happy."

Working quietly and steadily in the kitchen, she almost doesn't notice Daryl wander in quietly and perch on a stool in the corner to fuss over his quiver. He catches her eye and she smiles as she measures out more sugar for her recipe. Nodding his head and working his tongue under his bottom lip he focuses back to wiping grime off the arrows. She smiles to herself. He always shows up like an old house cat, slinking in and tucking himself into a corner to mend his cross bow, pick his fingernails, or brood. They don't have to talk and usually don't. Occupying the same room is enough to comfort them. They both carry about their activities and let the room fill up with an easy peace. Like incense it fills a space and it's a palpable quiet that soothes the mind and nourishes the soul. Except today it's not silent. Right now, the sounds of Nina Simone swelled into the air and Carol rocked and swayed as she worked, being lifted by the sounds of a woman telling her man she wasn't going to take it anymore. She's moved to lip sync as she shifts back and forth but when she looks over at Daryl, he's got his leg up and is resting his arm on his knee. His quiver forgotten, half his face is sunk against his arm and his eyes are two glittering slits peeking out from an unruly oily mane. She pokes the spoon she's holding at him as she sings another verse and he snorts. _Poor thing,_ she thinks. _He looks tired._ There's an apricot filling she's working on that's okay to try now, she's pretty sure. It always takes some time to let dried fruit soak and get soft. "You look bored. Wanna taste test?"

He's usually pretty good about being honest. There's usually a grunt followed by "This is good." or sucking on his fingers and then stealing half of it before it's even done. If he doesn't like it, the Dixon honesty comes out. He's slumped off the stool in the corner and has joined her at the table. As she turns to get the bowl full of apricot filling, he pops a finger into another bowl filled with brown powder and sticks it in his mouth. He screws up his face and exclaims, "This tastes like dog butt!" Facing him now with the bowl she had _intended_ for him to try, she closes her eyes and lifts her eyebrows with the patience of Job. "Daryl," she says plainly, "Number one: That's not ready yet. It's cocoa powder-"

"But, cocoa powder! Thas' chocolate right?"

"Number two: How many dog butts have you tasted as a basis for comparison?" and she stared up at him.

He stared at her, searching his mind for a witty come back. He blustered, straightened up, and shook his locks out of the way, readying to say something to the effect of "As a matter of fact . . . " but he could come up with nothing.

She just smirked and offered him the bowl of apricot filling. "Good?" she asked as he sucked his fingers.

"Mmhmmm." was his answer.

"I don't know. I think it might be a little too runny."

He started to lick off what had run down his wrist now as he grunts, "Little bit."

Meanwhile, Maggie, Michonne, and Rick were finishing their drinks and readying to start weed pulling again when Maggie glances over and whispers, "Oh my god."

Rick's head snaps around, "What?" and Michonne matches his concern.

"Ssshhhh!" she says off to the side, "Look but don't look . . . the kitchen."

And they slowly peer over at the direction of the provisions building. Etta James is drifting over the speakers and there stands Daryl in the kitchen with Carol.

Daryl's just about to wipe his mouth on the collar of his shirt when Carol tosses a dish rag at him. She's gone back to adjusting her recipe and swaying around the table as she goes. For reasons unknown to him, he's not really in the mood to going back to the corner to brood. "How long till it's done?" he asks.

"Oh, ummmmmm . . . " she's sifting out more flour. "Well, I've got to mix the dough first." and she spins with the music and dodges in front of him to grab another spoon.

"You dance like a walker." he's just using juvenile barbs to vie for her attention.

"Oh yeah?" she says, bobbing around. "All this time, you never let on you're a ballroom dancer?"

He threw his shoulders back and his chin out, "Yeah."

Carols face broke out in that sweet devilish smile that meant she called his bluff, "Stop!"

He lifted his eyebrows as he stared her down. She began to laugh, "Okay, Fred Astaire. Show me then!"

He puts on a good front about knowing what he's doing as he puts a hand at her waist and delicately lifts her other hand. But, now that they're close and she's looking him in the eyes he gets nervous. He clears his throat, looking anywhere but straight in her eyes. "Ain'tchu supposed to put yer head on my shoulder or something."

She rolls her eyes and gently lays her head into the crook of his neck. They rock and sway to the beat but after a while she laughs and exclaims a muffled, "This isn't dancing. This is just snuggling to music." To which he squeezes her closer, burying his nose in her hair and chuckling. "You liar." she giggles.

Meanwhile, Maggie and Michonne are literally trying to tear Rick's arms off in their excitement.


End file.
